Archive of Our Own

“Bakugou,” says a firm voice behind him.

Katsuki winces, turning from where he’d been trying to slip out the classroom door. “Yeah?”

Midoriya-sensei has his arms crossed, face serious. “Do you have a few minutes to talk in my office?”

Fuck.

“Sure,” Katsuki forces himself to say.

The rest of the students file out of the room while Midoriya-sensei packs up all of his things, Katsuki standing awkwardly nearby as he waits. Once Midoriya-sensei is ready to leave, he leads the way out of the classroom, heading up a few flights of stairs. He tries to make small talk on the way, but Katsuki’s never been great at that kind of thing even at the best of times, and the silence between them hangs heavy and awkward until they reach his office.

“Alright, Bakugou,” Midoriya-sensei says, dropping his books onto his desk. “You already know why I brought you here, don’t you?”

“If you’re gonna fucking lecture me then just do it,” Katsuki grumbles, dropping his backpack on the floor and sinking into the chair in front of Midoriya-sensei’s desk. “No need to beat around the bush.”

Midoriya-sensei sighs as he takes off his suit jacket, hanging it onto the back of his chair. “Watch your language, please.”

Katsuki snorts. “Or you’ll do what? We’re not in class, Sensei, I can curse all I want.”

Midoriya-sensei gives a dry chuckle as he takes his seat. “I guess you’re right about that.”

He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt, and his arms are… much larger than Katsuki thought they were, the strength evident in the thick cords of muscle. Katsuki never would have taken his nerdy ass English professor to be someone who hits the gym, but he guesses he was wrong about that.

“Like you said, I won’t beat around the bush,” Midoriya-sensei says, setting his hands down on his desk. From this close, Katsuki can just about make out faint scars wrapping around the skin of his fingers. He wonders when he got those.

“I enjoy hearing your perspective in class, Bakugou, but at this point, it’s becoming disruptive,” Midoriya-sensei says firmly. “You’ve derailed my lesson plans several times with your constant interruptions, and it’s not fair to anyone to use class time like that.”

Katsuki huffs, looking over to the side.

He doesn’t even know how he’s gotten himself into this situation — this class was just supposed to be an easy way to fill one of his general education requirements. Except Katsuki never does things halfway, so of course he tries his best to do all the readings and understand them to the best of his ability. And while Midoriya-sensei is an engaging lecturer, there’s something about the way he teaches the text, the way he pushes his own interpretations even as he encourages the students to analyze it for themselves, that pisses Katsuki off. So yeah, he speaks up a lot in class. And yeah, when he directly challenges Midoriya-sensei’s teachings, which is often, their debates can take up huge chunks of class time. Fucking sue him for being invested in the lesson material.

“You’re the one who argues back,” Katsuki mutters.

A flash of irritation crosses Midoriya-sensei’s face, and he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. Yet another surprise — it’s rare to see anything other than a smile on Katsuki’s mild-mannered professor’s face. Of course, he’s seen Midoriya-sensei get a little annoyed here and there during class, but he seems to be better at hiding it when he’s in front of his students. Here, in his office, there’s no one to see but Katsuki.

Katsuki shifts in his seat, suddenly a lot warmer than he was before. He wonders if Midoriya-sensei always keeps the heating in his office this high.

Midoriya-sensei pinches his nose. “That might be so, Bakugou, but I only ever try to answer your questions. I’d hardly call that arguing b—”

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Katsuki says dismissively. “I get what you’re saying, but shouldn’t you be happy that you’ve got someone engaging with your lessons? Half the class doesn’t even do the readings.”

Midoriya-sensei tries for a smile. “Sure, but there’s a time and place for —”

“And honestly, the only reason I talk so much is because I don’t think you’re giving the class enough freedom to interpret the text for themselves,” Katsuki continues. “You always say you want us to come up with our own analysis, but then still try to influence us towards your own personal conclusions.”

A muscle in Midoriya-sensei’s jaw twitches. “I understand what you’re saying, but when it comes to teaching a text, there will always be some amount of the teacher’s bias in the —”

Katsuki snorts. “Some amount, sure, but don’t you think you could do more to reduce —”

“Bakugou!” Midoriya-sensei snaps. “Just be quiet and listen to me for one second, will you?”

Katsuki freezes, stunned into silence.

“Good,” Midoriya-sensei says, voice low and tinged with irritation, and —

Oh, fuck.

Katsuki’s hard.

It’s not just a half-chub, either. He’s fully, painfully hard, and the soft sweatpants he’s wearing aren’t doing him any favors. Midoriya-sensei is still talking to him, but Katsuki isn’t hearing any of it. Heat rushes to his face as he stares straight ahead, trying not to panic.

This — something like this has never happened to Katsuki before. God, he didn’t even really think Midoriya-sensei was that attractive! Sure, the guy’s got the big eyes and the freckles and the cute babyface going for him, but Katsuki would never in a million years have described him as hot until —

“Are you listening?” Midoriya-sensei says, sharp and firm.

Katsuki’s traitorous cock twitches at the sound. God, he wants to fucking die.

“Yes,” Katsuki manages to get out.

Midoriya-sensei nods, then keeps continues with whatever fucking lecture he’s been giving. All the while, Katsuki tries his best to think about something else — his engineering homework, the clog in the shower that he needs to clean out, his roommate’s rotting takeout in the fridge — anything that will get his stupid erection to go down. It almost works, too, but then Midoriya-sensei would choose that moment to ask him a question with that stupidly deep voice, or tap the desk with his giant fucking hands, and bam, Katsuki’s right back where he started.

He’s seriously considering just grabbing his backpack off the floor and holding it over his lap when Midoriya-sensei lets out a sigh, leaning back in his chair.

“I’m sure you’re tired enough of hearing me talk,” he says. “But hopefully, we won’t have to do this again. Right?”

“Right,” Katsuki says quickly. He looks for his backpack, but his idiotic past self had dropped it on the floor too far away for him to reach from the chair. And of course, standing up isn’t really an option for him right now.

“Let me show you out,” Midoriya-sensei says. He starts rising out of his chair, and a jolt of panic strikes Katsuki.

“Wait!” Katsuki says. He looks around desperately for anything that could help hide his situation, but there’s nothing in sight other than the messy paperwork on Midoriya-sensei’s desk.

Midoriya-sensei looks over at him as he gets up. “What is it, Ba—”

Suddenly, he stops dead in his tracks. His already big eyes widen even further, flickering down to — to —

Katsuki bolts out of his chair, snatching his backpack off the ground before running away.

“Bakugou—” he hears, but Katsuki slams the office door shut behind him and doesn’t look back.

Fuck!

***

Katsuki spends the next week in a blur of panic and embarrassment. His roommate Kirishima doesn’t try to ask him about it, but he acts extra nice and even cleans the fridge without Katsuki asking, which means he must really look like shit. He definitely feels like it.

There’s just — he has no idea how he can ever recover from this. He assumes Midoriya-sensei is going to get him removed from the class somehow, possibly making up a fake reason to help save Katsuki some face. That definitely seems like something he’d do, not that Katsuki deserves it. But it’s already too late to switch into a different class this semester, and he really needs that English requirement done if he wants to graduate early like he’d planned. God, he can’t believe that he fucked up his whole schedule just because —

Katsuki shoves his face into his pillow and screams.

He skips Midoriya-sensei’s next class, of course. And the one after. But after a whole week passes without any emails from administration informing Katsuki that he’s been removed from the class, he can’t help but feel a little curious.

Is it possible that Midoriya-sensei hadn’t seen anything after all? It seems like wishful thinking, but Katsuki can’t really think of any other possible explanation.

Buoyed by that hope, Katsuki shows up to the next class, trying his best to keep his head down and stay out of sight. Midoriya-sensei, for his part, acts exactly the same as he always has, and even gets through most of his lesson plan now that Katsuki doesn’t dare to ask questions or draw his attention. It’s a nerve wracking hour and a half, but Katsuki manages to make it through without any incident. Thank god.

Once the class is over, he slips into the crowd of students, hoping to make it out of the room unnoticed.

“Bakugou, a second, please?” Midoriya-sensei calls out.

Icy dread shoots through Katsuki’s veins.

Fuck. He should have known it was too good to be true.

Katsuki reluctantly peels his way from the crowd, shuffling over to where Midoriya-sensei is collecting his things on the podium. He stares down at his hands and waits for the inevitable.

“Here,” Midoriya-sensei says, holding out a stack of papers. “These are the readings you missed.”

Katsuki blinks. “Oh… thanks.” He was planning on just downloading them from the class website, but he guesses he doesn’t have to do that anymore.

He steps forward to grab the papers, but before he can take them and make his escape, Midoriya-sensei’s hand lands on Katsuki’s shoulder, warm and heavy.

Katsuki makes a noise that can only be described as a squeak, his face heating up. Midoriya-sensei leans in, his hot breath brushing against Katsuki’s ear.

“I’d appreciate it if one of my best students wouldn’t miss any more classes,” he says, voice low. “Can you do that for me, Katsuki?”

A full-body shiver runs down Katsuki’s back. He nods, quick.

“Good,” Midoriya-sensei says, sounding satisfied. He gives Katsuki’s shoulder a little squeeze before he steps back, letting his hand drop back down to his side.

Katsuki doesn’t run out of there, but it’s a near thing.

***

They don’t talk about it.

In fact, Katsuki and Midoriya-sensei make sure to only talk to each other inside the classroom, always careful to keep their interactions public and relatively innocuous. But Katsuki doesn’t think he’s imagining the way Midoriya-sensei’s eyes linger on him sometimes. Or the way he calls Katsuki over at the end of class sometimes, hand heavy on his arm as he tells him something that could easily have been said in an email. It’s… strange. Katsuki’s not used to having this sort of attention on him, but it makes something warm and hot flutter in his stomach.

As Katsuki slowly gets his nerve back, he continues with his questions and interruptions during Midoriya-sensei’s lectures, just to see that flicker of annoyance underneath his ever present smile. It’s fun to see how far he can push it, to see if he can finally get Midoriya-sensei to snap. For the most part, the professor’s self-control is quite strong.

There is one memorable moment — Katsuki doesn’t even remember what he’d said to provoke it, honestly. But what he does remember is the way Midoriya-sensei’s voice cut through the air, loud and firm.

“That’s enough, Katsuki.”

The whole class fell silent, shocked at the sharp words from their normally bubbly professor. For his part, Katsuki had just swallowed hard, staring right back into Midoriya-sensei’s intense eyes until the professor had to look away.

(That night, Katsuki had jerked off to the memory of Midoriya-sensei’s deep voice, hot and heavy in his ear. He could almost feel the warmth of those big hands on his shoulders, pushing him down into the mattress. God, he wondered what those scarred fingers would feel like against his skin.

Once he’d finally crossed that line, it became a lot easier to keep doing it. To push Midoriya-sensei’s buttons during the day and think about him at night. Safe to say, Katsuki becomes very grateful that Midoriya-sensei’s class is always his last one of the day. He doesn’t think he’s been this constantly on edge since he was in high school.

He wonders if Midoriya-sensei thinks of him like this too.)

***

The semester flies by before Katsuki knows it, yet things with Midoriya-sensei don’t progress further than their classroom interactions. Katsuki isn’t disappointed or anything, but… he doesn’t know. He thought something might have happened by now, but he pushes all thoughts of it out of his mind when finals season hits.

His finals are awful, as usual, but hunkers down at the library for two weeks straight and manages to pull through. He’s even able to submit his final essay for Midoriya-sensei’s class a few days early.

Katsuki emerges from his last final at noon and heads straight for the dining hall. He makes himself a quick lunch from the sandwich bar and sits down at a nearby free table, munching idly on his sandwich as he scrolls through his phone. He’s got a train ticket home for tomorrow, which means he has the night to pack up all his stuff. Should be easy enough.

His phone buzzes, and Katsuki glances at the notification bubble.

New email from Midoriya Izuku

Subject: Your final essay

Katsuki’s phone almost falls out of his hand. As it is, he barely saves it from landing screen-first onto the carpet, and his hands tremble ever so slightly as he clicks the notification.

Hi Katsuki,

I’ve read over your final essay and I have a few questions for you. I was wondering if you would be free to meet in my office at 5:00pm today?

Thanks,

Izuku

Katsuki’s sandwich lies forgotten on the plate as he stares at the email, reading it over and over. The use of both their first names makes him flush.

The last time he was in Midoriya-sensei’s office was…

Katsuki squirms in his seat, warmth flooding his body.

Before he can overthink it, he taps out a quick reply confirming the time and hits send. Then he drops his phone onto the table and buries his face in his hands.

God. What’s wrong with him? Is he really going to do this?

Katsuki’s never even — done any of this stuff before. He’d been too busy studying in high school to date, and even after he started college, he never really had the desire to hook up or find a boyfriend. There just wasn’t anyone he was that interested in. For a while, he’d almost thought he could be asexual or something, but —

He thinks about Midoriya-sensei’s hot breath on his ear and shudders.

Katsuki’s so fucked.

***

The hours leading up to Katsuki’s meeting with Midoriya-sensei pass in a haze of anxiety. He takes a shower, packs most of his stuff for tomorrow, paces circles around his room, and tries not to think too hard about anything at all.

Before he knows it, it’s time.

Katsuki gets to Midoriya-sensei’s office at five o’clock on the dot, hesitating for just a moment before he knocks on the door.

“Come in,” says a muffled voice. Katsuki takes a deep breath and pushes the door open.

Inside the office is Midoriya-sensei, sitting at his desk. It’s already dark outside, so at first, all Katsuki can make out is a flash of green hair under the warm office lights. Katsuki shuts the door behind him, shucks off his jacket, and approaches slowly.

“Hi Sensei,” Katsuki says, voice coming out surprisingly steady. “You wanted to speak with me?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Midoriya-sensei says. “Come over here.”

Katsuki makes to sit in the chair in front of the desk, but Midoriya-sensei shakes his head, gesturing for him to come closer. Katsuki pauses, but eventually does as he says, walking over to Midoriya-sensei’s side of the desk.

Midoriya-sensei picks up a packet of papers from the desk and swivels towards Katsuki, still sitting in his office chair. The movement exposes his thick thighs to the dim light, casually spread apart. Katsuki swallows hard.

“Here’s your essay,” Midoriya-sensei says, holding out the papers. He doesn’t extend his arm very far, though, forcing Katsuki to come even closer to take it from his hand. Katsuki’s knees press against Midoriya-sensei’s legs as he steps forward, the warmth of his skin radiating even through the clothes.

Katsuki feels heat rise into his face, but he takes a deep breath and tries to focus on the essay. There’s a few comments written in the margins in red ink, but what immediately draws Katsuki’s attention is the large ninety-six scribbled on the top.

“You — you graded it already?” Katsuki says, surprised. Midoriya-sensei is a slow grader at the best of times, and he’d assumed that fact would only get worse during finals season.

“Yours was the first one I read,” Midoriya-sensei says. He leans back in his chair, letting his legs fall apart even further. “I submitted your final grade for the class too.”

Katsuki blinks. “But those aren’t due for another month.”

“Mm, well, I wanted to get it out of the way,” Midoriya-sensei says. He’s staring up at him with those dark eyes, and Katsuki couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. “You know what this means, right?”

Katsuki shakes his head, not trusting his voice to respond.

Two big hands land on Katsuki’s hips, and he yelps as they yank him in even closer. The essay slips out of Katsuki’s hold, falling somewhere on the ground, and his hands end up on Midoriya-sensei’s shoulders, holding on for balance.

“It means,” Midoriya-sensei says, voice low. “You aren’t my student anymore.”

And that —

Katsuki’s moving before he even knows what he’s doing.

Midoriya-sensei’s lips are hot and wet against his own, and Katsuki melts into the feeling, leaning in for more. The angle is a little awkward, but Midoriya-sensei fixes that quickly, tightening his grip on Katsuki’s waist and hauling him easily into his lap.

“Fuck,” Katsuki says, suddenly finding himself straddling Midoriya-sensei’s thick thighs.

Midoriya-sensei grins at him, a wicked little thing, and Katsuki can’t believe he ever thought this guy was harmless. “This’ll work better, don’t you think?”

Katsuki doesn’t have time to reply before Midoriya-sensei captures his mouth in another hungry kiss. Their lips fit perfectly together like this, the slick, hot weight of Midoriya-sensei’s tongue sliding into Katsuki’s eager mouth, and a high whine escapes out of the back of his throat. Midoriya-sensei pulls him closer, deepening the kiss and swallowing up any noises Katsuki might make.

Katsuki’s hips rut forward thoughtlessly, stuttering when he feels a warm, hard length pressed up against him.

“Sensei,” he gets out, breaking out of the kiss.

“Izuku,” Midoriya-sensei murmurs. “Call me Izuku.”

Midoriya — Izuku rolls his hips up and Katsuki shudders against his chest.

“Izuku,” he gasps.

Suddenly, the world spins around and Katsuki finds himself pinned down with his back against Izuku’s desk. Izuku leans over him, pressing a kiss to Katsuki’s mouth before pulling his shirt off of him.

“God, you’ve been driving me crazy,” Izuku says, voice rough as he throws Katsuki’s shirt somewhere off to the side. He dives back in, kissing and sucking a line down Katsuki’s neck. He’s definitely leaving marks, but Katsuki can’t really bring himself to care about that right now. Izuku makes it to his chest, lips brushing against one of Katsuki’s nipples, and Katsuki jerks up off the table, an embarrassing noise escaping out of his mouth.

“You like that, huh?” Izuku says, eyes dark. He sucks one of Katsuki’s nipples into his mouth, swirling around the dark bud with his tongue, and Katsuki cries out, hips twitching upward in search of relief. He’s achingly hard, cock leaking in his pants, but Izuku bats his hand away when he reaches down.

Katsuki makes a frustrated noise, and Izuku pulls off his chest, pinning his hands down to the table.

“No touching,” Izuku says. “That’s my job.”

“Well, hurry the fuck up, then!” Katsuki snaps.

Izuku chuckles. “There’s that mouth of yours again.”

Before Katsuki can find a response to that, Izuku’s hands find their way to his hips. He toys with the soft waistband for a moment, then pauses.

“Are these… Are these the same pants as last time?” Izuku asks.

It takes Katsuki a minute to figure out what he means. When he does, he chokes out a laugh. He truly hadn’t done it intentionally — before he’d come, he’d spent almost an hour fretting over what to wear, then ended up running out of time and just throwing on a random pair of clean sweats. But now that he thinks about it, he’s pretty sure Izuku’s right. These are the same pants as the ones he wore last time he was in this office.

“Jesus, I can’t believe you remembered that,” Katsuki pants.

“How could I not?” Izuku says, voice low. “It’s not every day a pretty little brat comes to my office and gets hard to the sound of my voice. I’ve been thinking about it for months.”

Katsuki shivers. “Izuku, please.”

“Please what, Katsuki?” Izuku says, thumbs brushing against the little divots on either side of Katsuki’s hips. “What do you want?”

Katsuki opens his mouth, then closes it. He bites his lip, feeling his face flush red.

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me now,” Izuku says. He presses a hand to the front of Katsuki’s pants, and Katsuki cries out, his whole body shuddering on the table.

“Fuck me!” Katsuki gasps. “I want you to fuck me. Please, Izuku.”

Izuku inhales sharply. His fingers dig into Katsuki’s waist, hard enough to leave bruises. Then he makes quick work of Katsuki’s pants and boxers, Katsuki lifting his hips to help him pull them down.

Laid out and fully exposed on the desk, Katsuki squirms, suddenly self conscious. But there’s no escaping Izuku’s hungry gaze, eyes flitting around and greedily taking in every inch of Katsuki’s body.

“God, you’re perfect,” Izuku breathes out, and a high, embarrassing noise fights its way out of Katsuki’s throat.

Izuku ducks out of sight for a moment. Katsuki hears the sound of a drawer opening, then the click of a plastic cap.

“You seriously keep lube in your desk?” Katsuki snorts. “What, do you make a habit of fucking people in your office?”

Izuku appears back in Katsuki’s vision, and Katsuki feels a big hand on his thighs, spreading his legs apart.

“No,” Izuku says, eyes dark. “Just you.”

Before Katsuki can even begin to form a response to that, he feels a hand circling around his hole, rubbing lube around the entrance. Katsuki’s breath catches in his chest as he feels Izuku’s first finger sink in, the lube still a touch too cold. He tries his best not to clench around the dull pressure, but it’s a strange sensation. Of course, he’s fingered himself a few times before just to try it out, but it feels very different when it’s someone else doing it. Izuku’s fingers are a bit thicker than his own, too, and he swears he can almost feel the rough skin of his scars.

Izuku curls his finger and Katsuki’s vision goes white, back arching off the desk.

“Izuku,” he moans.

“Right there, huh?” Izuku smiles.

It’s not long before he adds a second finger, fucking them in and out of Katsuki’s hole as he writhes on the table. Katsuki’s neglected cock bobs against his stomach, painfully hard, but he keeps his hands away.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this,” Izuku says. He looks fascinated as he watches his fingers enter Katsuki, scissoring them apart to help loosen him up. “Every time you mouthed off in class, I swear to god, I wanted to bend you over right then and there.”

Katsuki whines, hands clutching at the tabletop.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Izuku murmurs. He adds a third finger, lube squelching as he pushes it deep inside. “For everyone to see how desperate you are?”

Izuku twists his fingers into the right spot, and Katsuki moans, clenching against the pressure.

“Please,” Katsuki begs. “Please, Izuku, I need— I need —”

Suddenly, there’s a hand on his cheek, Izuku’s thumb tracing over Katsuki’s cheekbone.

“You know, it’s funny,” he muses. “You’re such a brat to me in class, but I think what you really want is to be good.”

“Izuku,” Katsuki whimpers.

Izuku finally wraps a hand around Katsuki’s cock, curling his fingers inside him at the same time, and Katsuki cries out as he comes, jerking up off the desk. His vision goes blurry for a moment, his body twitching and shuddering through the aftershocks. Izuku strokes him through it, his voice a soothing murmur in his ear. Eventually Katsuki pushes his hand away, oversensitive.

“Fuck,” Izuku says, soft eyes full of wonder. “You’re amazing, Katsuki.”

He carefully pulls his slicked up fingers out, and Katsuki winces, his hole clenching around the sudden emptiness. Izuku turns and takes a step to the left, but Katsuki locks his legs around his back, keeping him in place.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Katsuki demands.

Izuku blinks. “Um, I was just going to get something to help clean you up.”

“And why would you do that?” Katsuki scoffs. “You still haven’t fucked me.”

Izuku’s eyes widen. “But Katsuki, you already —”

“I don’t care,” Katsuki cuts in. “I want — I want to feel you everywhere, Izuku.”

Izuku swallows, hard.

“I —” he takes a deep breath, then another. “Fuck, okay.”

Katsuki releases his legs, allowing Izuku to lean over to another drawer. He pulls out a string of condoms and sets it on the desk. Then he moves on to his clothes, fumbling with his belt for a moment before getting his pants off. Before he can pull down his boxers, though, Katsuki tugs at the hem of his shirt, frowning.

“Get this shit off, too,” he says. “Not fair that I’m naked and you’re not.”

Izuku laughs. “So bossy.”

He does what Katsuki says, though, shucking off his shirt and his underwear. Katsuki stares at his thick, muscled body, finally exposed in the dim lamp light. And then there’s his dick, too, long, girthy and flushed red at the tip. Katsuki feels his face heat up as he looks at it. God, is he really going to be able to take all of that?

Izuku must see some of the apprehension on his face, because he says, “We don’t have to —”

“Shut up,” Katsuki says, cheeks warm. “I can — I can do it.”

“Okay, Katsuki,” Izuku says agreeably.

He tears open a condom packet with his teeth and swiftly rolls it on. Then he drizzles some lube into his palm, making sure to thoroughly slick up his cock. He pushes Katsuki’s thighs open with his hands, slipping a few fingers back into his hole just to double check that he’s properly prepped. Katsuki gasps at the feeling, his spent cock twitching against his stomach.

“God,” Izuku breathes out, stretching him out with his fingers. “Wish you could see yourself like this, Katsuki. So pretty.”

Katsuki whines, pushing his hips back against his hand. After a few more minutes, Izuku pulls his fingers out. Before Katsuki has the time to mourn the absence, Izuku lines up his cock against his entrance, and Katsuki feels the blunt pressure of the tip as he feeds it in.

It’s — big. So much bigger than fingers. Katsuki’s breath hitches as Izuku slowly pushes in. Even just the tip feels huge.

“Izuku,” Katsuki chokes out, panic flooding his chest. “I don’t know if I — I —”

“It’s okay, baby,” Izuku soothes, cupping Katsuki’s cheek with one of his warm hands. “Just try to relax for me. You can do it, you’re doing so well.”

Katsuki takes a breath and makes a concerted effort to relax himself. His eyelids flutter shut against his will, his hips twitching as Izuku’s cock splits him open.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Izuku says, and Katsuki whimpers.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Izuku bottoms out, his hips pressing against Katsuki’s ass. Katsuki’s hole flutters and clenches around his cock as he tries to adjust to the stretch, sucking in deep breaths. God, he’s so full — he swears he can almost feel Izuku’s dick in his throat.

“How do you feel?” Izuku asks. He’s trying to hold himself still, though Katsuki can see the slight tremble in muscled arms.

Katsuki feels —

“Move,” he gasps out.

Izuku pulls almost all the way out, then snaps his hips back in, and Katsuki screams.

He sets a fast, punishing pace, and Katsuki scrabbles desperately at the surface of the desk, nails digging into the wood as he holds on for dear life. With every thrust, Katsuki’s body moves up the table, scattering random pieces of paper onto the floor.

“God, you’re so tight,” Izuku groans. He jerks his hips forward and Katsuki moans, throwing his head back against the table.

“Izuku,” he chokes out. God, he can feel him everywhere.

“Gonna fuck you so good, you won’t remember anyone else,” Izuku pants.

The words slip out before Katsuki can stop them. “There isn’t anyone else. Just you.”

Izuku’s next thrust lifts Katsuki’s hips clear off the table, and the shift in angle makes him see stars.

“Right there!” Katsuki gasps. “Right — fuck!”

Izuku grabs Katsuki’s hips with his giant hands, holding him up in the air as he fucks into his tight heat. He nails Katsuki’s prostate over and over, and Katsuki arches off the desk with each stroke, incoherent noises falling from his mouth. He’s so close, can feel the crest of his orgasm building in his stomach, but it’s just not quite enough.

Katsuki reaches for his cock, but Izuku pushes his hand away. Katsuki almost wails out of frustration, body shuddering against the table.

“Izuku, please,” he begs.

“I think you can come without that, can’t you?” Izuku says. He thrusts into him again, and Katsuki makes a pained noise.

“I don’t — Izuku, I can’t —” Katsuki’s breath hitches.

“Yes, you can, baby,” Izuku soothes. “You’ve been so good for me, I know you can do it.”

Katsuki sobs as Izuku pushes into him again, sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine, but it’s still not enough.

“Izuku,” he pleads.

Izuku leans down and mouths at Katsuki’s nipple, tongue lapping at the sensitive skin.

Katsuki comes with a shout, vision whiting out as his body shakes through it, cum splattering against Izuku’s chest. He clenches down hard around Izuku’s cock, and Izuku moans.

“Oh, Kacchan’s so amazing,” he babbles, his thrusts rapidly losing their rhythm. “So perfect.”

It doesn’t take long for Izuku to come after that, his whole body shuddering as he snaps his hips into Katsuki. He buries his face into Katsuki’s neck, setting him back down on the desk, and Katsuki shivers with overstimulation.

They stay like that for a few moments, both of them recovering their breath. Katsuki sets a hand on top of Izuku’s head, stroking through his messy green hair. It’s softer than Katsuki imagined it would be.

Eventually, Izuku has to pull out, and Katsuki winces at the feeling. He lays back on the desk as Izuku deals with the condom, relishing in the satisfying ache in his muscles.

Izuku comes back with a handful of tissues, doing his best to mop up the mess on Katsuki’s stomach. He’s unusually quiet as he cleans them both up, his brow furrowed in that way he only gets when he’s thinking hard about something. Katsuki’s seen it a lot when someone asks him a difficult question in class.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Katsuki says, and Izuku jumps.

“Sorry, I was just —” Izuku bites his lip. “Were you telling the truth?”

Katsuki blinks. “About what?”

“You said there was no one else,” Izuku says. “Does that mean… are you a virgin?”

Katsuki glances down at his naked chest, streaks of cum still visible despite Izuku’s clean up efforts. “Well, not anymore, clearly.”

“That’s not funny, Katsuki,” Izuku says, sharp. “Shit, I didn’t —” He cuts himself off, running a nervous hand through his hair.

Katsuki pushes himself up to a sitting position, frowning. “Are you seriously having a freak out about this?”

“Is that really so surprising?” Izuku snaps back. “I mean — I don’t know, I thought you had some experience!”

“What, so you’re okay with fucking your twenty-year-old student but not your twenty-year-old student who’s a virgin?” Katsuki scoffs. “Is there really a difference?”

“God, don’t say it like that,” Izuku groans, face buried in his hands.

“Listen, I wanted this,” Katsuki says firmly. “It’s not like I didn’t know what I was doing when I replied to your fucking booty call email, or whatever. And I… I liked it, okay?”

Izuku peeks out from behind his hands. “You did?”

“I came twice, you asshole,” Katsuki scowls. “Don’t fish for compliments.”

Izuku smiles at that, letting his hands fall away from his face. “I liked it too, for the record.”

“Good,” Katsuki mumbles, face heating up. He turns away, grabbing his boxers and sweatpants off the floor.

Izuku finds his own clothes as well, and it doesn’t take long for them to both get dressed again. Katsuki pulls on his jacket as Izuku fiddles with the buttons on his shirt.

Izuku coughs. “So, uh… what are you doing tomorrow?”

“Taking a train,” Katsuki says. “I’m going home for winter break.”

“Oh, right,” Izuku says. He opens his mouth as if to say something else, but then closes it, looking away.

Katsuki sighs, then unlocks his phone and chucks it at Izuku.

“What the — Kacchan!” Izuku says, catching the phone before it hits him in the face.

“Put your number in there so we can text over the break,” Katsuki says. “Also, where the hell did ‘Kacchan’ come from?” He’s pretty sure this isn’t the first time Izuku’s said it tonight, but Katsuki was a little too distracted to take notice of it before now.

Izuku’s freckled cheeks blush bright red. “Sorry, I guess I just — call you that in my head sometimes. I can stop if you don’t like it.”

Katsuki huffs. “Whatever. Just hurry up and give me your phone.”

“Right!” Izuku unlocks his phone and hands it over to Katsuki, who opens a new contact page and quickly enters his number. He hovers his thumb over the blank name field, hesitating for a moment before inputting ‘Kacchan,’ then hands the phone back to Izuku before he can second guess the decision.

Izuku’s mouth twitches up into a smile when he sees the contact name, eyes flickering over to Katsuki, who’s busy schooling his face into a carefully neutral expression.

“Looks like Kacchan likes his nickname,” Izuku says, amused.

“Shut up and give me my phone back,” Katsuki snaps, but the flush in his cheeks betrays him.

Izuku just grins and does as he’s told. Once he’s got his phone in his hand, Katsuki looks at the new contact saved under Midoriya Izuku and huffs out a laugh.

“You seriously saved your number under your actual name?” Katsuki says. “Dude, like half my friends have taken classes with you, that’s not gonna work.”

Izuku frowns. “Oh… I didn’t think about that. What name would be better, then?”

Katsuki stares at the contact name as he thinks. Now that he’s looking at Izuku’s name spelled out, it kind of looks…

“You’re Deku now,” Katsuki decides, typing it into his phone.

Izuku furrows his brow. “Deku as in useless?”

“Yup,” Katsuki smirks. “I think it fits pretty well, personally.”

“Hey!” Izuku says, but he’s laughing too.

Katsuki’s phone buzzes loudly in his hand, and they both jump. Katsuki glances down and finds a new text from Kirishima, which just reads where are u???

Right, they were supposed to have a roomie movie night today. Kirishima’s idea, obviously.

“I’ve gotta go,” Katsuki says. “But, um. I’ll see you after break?”

“Right, of course!” Izuku says, nodding a tad too vigorously. “I’ll see you around.”

“Okay,” Katsuki says. He forces himself to turn around and leave, closing the office door behind him.

It doesn't take Katsuki very long to head down the stairs and walk out the building. The freezing wind makes him pick up his pace, but he’s just barely stepped foot off campus before his phone buzzes with a new text.

Goodnight Kacchan, it reads.

Katsuki huffs out a laugh.

goodnight nerd, he writes back.

The cold winter air swirls around Katsuki’s face as he walks, but he feels warm all the way home.